


Angel

by LillithAbendroth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillithAbendroth/pseuds/LillithAbendroth
Summary: Song fic set to Halseys "Hold me down"She would have done anything for her fiance' Anything. Even die for him...but when a demon named Crowley shows her the truth, she finds herself selling something else to get her revenge.





	Angel

~*~  
My demons are begging me to open up my mouth  
I need them, mechanically make the words come out  
They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce  
Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about  
~*~

The snow held a freezing bite, the darkness absolute, stifling in its intensity. She had been wrenched from sleeps hold, thrust into the waking world, and into the blackness of the room around her. She blinked, her sapphire eyes roving dark patterns across the depths of the forest surrounding her. Every shadow was a monster, come to take her, every beam of light, a sword to cut her throat, every gust of wind and creak of a tree in the blackness was her death, coming from the world outside. 

She shivered, her arms coming around her. Wrapping around her like a warm embrace, covering herself from the cold. She still felt it, even now, the touch, like searing heat against her chilled flesh. The silver fox stole that had once been wrapped around her shoulders was gone, thrown to the floor and nearly a hundred yards behind her.

“Hello?”

Her voice was an echo in the stillness, deafoning as it shattered the thin ice that was the stillness of the forest, shaking from her fear. She turned, her movements heavy from the cold, grabbing her skirt and holding it against herself. She felt shame, fear, confusion, so many emotions, all grappling for a piece of her mind….and eyes. She felt someone watching from the blackness. 

“Is anyone there?”

She cried out again, though she knew an answer wouldn't come. The moonlight fell across the crossroads beneath her feet in shards like shattered glass, the air around her shifted as she leaned forward, searching the darkness beyond her reach. A smell reached her nostrils, something like warm tobacco and the sting of iron rich blood. 

This was the spot, wasn't it? A crossroads at midnight? Looking around one more time, a slender, shaking wrist came up, checking her watch beneath the light of the full moon, swollen in its intensity. Nearly midnight. It was now or never. 

She drew in a deep, staggering breath. Was she really going to do this? She swallowed thickly, forcing the thought away. How dare she think such a thing, of course she was going to do it. He would do it for her, wouldn't he?

Of course he would. Her Fiance’, Matt, was an amazing man. He was kind, generous, caring and funny...everything she ever wanted. They even went to the same church. He hadn't even complained at her request to save herself for the wedding night. In fact, he had seemed happy. She would die for him a thousand times, gladly. So this?

This shouldn't even have been a second thought. Who needed a soul, anyway? You couldn't see it...feel it, or smell it...what did she need it for?

Matt was in trouble, and she needed help. Help that she couldn't gather any other way…

Still shivering, she reached into the bag slung over her shoulder, fishing for the wooden box inside. Her fingers touched the smooth mahogany and jerked it free, the coins and other offerings inside jingling with an almost eerie merriment. She smoothed one gloved hand across its surface, wondering if this was really the right thing to do…

Without allowing herself another thought, she dropped to her knees in the middle of the road, where the roads met, The box clutched between her quivering fingers. 

She placed it lovingly in the snow beside her, and working as thoroughly as she found she was able, she worked to pull away chunks of the frozen ground. It wasn't easy, and by the time she had a hole she felt was big enough to fit her offering, her fingers were numb from the cold, and she was sure that if it hadn't been for her gloves, they would be bloody and raw. 

Sniffling, (though from the cold or her emotions, she couldn't be sure), she shoved the box into the hole, where it landed haphazardly on its side, and pushed the pile of rocks and dirt back into the wound in the earth, covering it. 

A hand came up to flick a ropey strand of coal black hair out of her face, and she got to her feet, shakily. She stood, still shivering from the cold, and brushed the dirt from her gloves on the skirt of her floor length blue dress. 

In the stillness, he watched her, the figure hiding in the shadows like an animal in the night. Lips pulled back, revealing a glimmering set of teeth, like predatorial fangs, piercing eyes peered to her from the blackness, watching every movement of her body and flutter of her eyelashes. The way she hesitated, looked around, stole a glance over one, shapely, exposed shoulder.

She groaned, her frustration mounting, her breath hitching in her lungs as she felt a new warmth come over her. A blazing, purifying fire that scorched her flesh and singed at the slightest touch. It was as if the radiating chill from a brisk December night had been stolen away by the flame of a fireplace. The one she should have been sleeping next to with Matt.

She heard it then, like the crackling of logs in a bonfire, footsteps behind her, approaching slowly, but steadily. Instinct told her to run, hide, get away...but her heart told her to stay still. Wait. She had wanted this. Summoned...this. She had made her metaphorical bed, and now she must lie in it. 

“Hello, Darling.”

The voice that called out from behind her sent a shiver up her spine, slamming into her brain with the force of a sledgehammer. The demon. The demon she had summoned. The demon with a voice with smoky undertones, and something warm and soothing intertwined in its depths. Like warm leather and the harsh kick of bourbon. 

She spun on the spot, her white pumps slipping in the slush and nearly throwing her into a pile of snow. 

In the shadows, a figure watched her, his eyes glowing red, sinister in the low light. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt she couldn't speak. A hand flew to her chest, feeling the hammering of her heartbeat beneath her digits. 

“Angelica Birdsong?”

The voice spoke her name, and she felt her heart fly up into her throat, choking her. She could do little more than nod. Her full, heart shaped lips had begun to turn blue from the cold, standing out against her pale, ivory complexion. 

The figure stepped towards her, stepping into the light, and a sliver of moonlight fell across his face, revealing him. He blinked, and the red glow of his eyes was extinguished, replaced by deep, rich browns. A grin folded his features knowingly. He was gruff and bearded, clad in a long, dark coat over a neat, black suit. 

Silenced stretched between them like miles of untraveled country roads, and finally she found the courage within her to speak. “You're a demon?”

His grin widened, “Yes, I am...but more than that, I am the king...of demons. Crowley. Nice to meet you, Angelica” His voice fell over her, surrounding her, shrouding her like a blanket over her. “But you should know that, love….you summoned me…”

She looked away, forced her eyes to the ground, wringing her hands in front of her. “Yes. I did…” Her voice, compared to his was thin, waifish, and easily thrown away by the wind. 

“And why would you do that?” He asked, taking another step towards her, “What would someone like you...want with someone like me?”

Angelica stopped for a moment, thinking quickly. Her mind worked in nauseatingly tight circles, weaving in and out of her consciousness. “I want…” Her voice cracked, choking her. She swallowed hard, and tried again. “I want to make a deal…”

“Oh, do you now?” He asked, still approaching. The closer she got, the faster her heart beat, until she feared it would hammer its way clean out of her chest and fly around the forest surrounding them. Was it her fear, that had her so on edge?

“I have to…” Her voice caught behind a burning lump of tears in her throat, tears she didn't even know were falling. 

“Why is that?” 

His words caused another shiver up her spine, and she was quaking. “My fiance’ I need to-”

“Ah yes.” The demon interrupted her, his smile knowing and smug, “Matthew Donovan. Liar. Cheater. Crook. I know him well, I own his soul, in fact.”

She backed away, her hand resting against her clavicle, “No. Matthew is...kind, generous…”

Crowley barked a laugh, and she jumped from the sound. “He lied to you, poppet. He is none of those things and more. He is the epitome of slime, and I can't believe he managed to wrangle himself a girl like you.”

She shook her head hard, her tendrils of raven locks dancing across her shoulders, a stark contrast to the snow falling around her. “That's not...t-true. That can't be tr-”

“It is. Trust me. I would know. Where do you think he got all this money from? The money that put that pretty little stone around your neck?” 

Her hand fumbled t the necklace lying against her cool flesh, a ruby, nearly the size of a quarter, inlaid among a circle of diamonds, standing out like blood on her pale throat. Her engagement present. 

“This was a gift. He gave it to me…”

Crowley nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Of course he did.”

She paused for a moment, her hands falling limp at her sides. She no longer felt the chill of the cold surrounding her, just the bleak, painful hole in her heart. Could it be true?

“November 15th, 7:18 PM, he placed that rock around your throat, said he was ‘the luckiest man alive’, and asked you to marry him. Am i hitting the mark so far?”

She nodded, her mouth fallen open with disbelief, tears pouring in rivers down her reddened cheeks. 

“You fell asleep some time after midnight, and as soon as he knew you were asleep, he snuck out of bed. Out of the house. Down the driveway, and into town. Where he spent the rest of the night in a hotel room with a girl named Rebecca. She gave him what you weren't willing to. Her body.”

Angelica shook her head, her hands coming up to press against her ears, desperate in her attempt to drown out his words. 

“Why do you think a man like him was so happy about your insistence that you save yourself for your wedding night? So he could sleep around until then...without you knowing about it”

Though she pressed her palms into her skull until it hurt, she heard what he said. It hit her heart like a thousand stabs. She swayed on the spot. She felt faint. She knew it was true. Her biggest fear...She had thought herself to be paranoid, and never spoke of it to anyone. But deep down she knew. 

A sobbing moan escaped her throat and she allowed her hands to fall from her ears, “Why are you telling me this?”

He huffed a laugh and shrugged, “I'm a man who lives by a code. A code of informed consent. Selling your soul to me means death in 10 years time. Do you really want to die for a man like Matthew?”

Without a second thought, she shook her head. That much she was sure of. She would give nothing to a man who took so much from her. “No. I…” Her voice broke, and she stopped, fearing her emotions if she kept going. 

He nodded, paused, allowed her a moment to catch her breath. It was then, the ravenous teeth of cold caught her once more, and she began to shiver violently. Crowley stepped towards her, Shrugging the coat from his shoulders, and tossing it over hers. She took it willingly, drinking in the scent of fire and brimstone. 

“What do you want? What could an angel desire that I could provide?” He asked, his voice low, sincerity peppered within. 

Angelica shook her head. “No. I don't want to die.”

He matched her shake of the head with one of his own. “No. I won't take your soul. I couldn't do that.” He smiled at her, his grin sinister and wolfish. “Just one...simple...thing.” 

The way he looked her over. The way he barred down on her, hungry like a pack of starving dogs, she knew what he wanted. He wanted what she was saving for Matthew. At first she was appalled, disgusted at the thought, and then something else bloomed in her belly. She was saving herself for Matthew, but he was undeserving… So many times she had found herself on the edge of lust, balancing on a razor's edge. But she had always been a good girl, throwing herself to the side of mercy, with one goal in mind. 

Now...her goal had changed, and the only feeling inside of her was one of unbridled control and revenge.   
“Okay” She nodded, her mind suddenly set on one clear goal. “I will. Anything. I'll give you anything.”

She fell to her knees in front of him, her knees hitting the frozen ground below her with a sound like bone on carpet. She reached for his belt, but he took a single step back, out of her reach. “Now, now. As good as you look down on your knees...This place-” He gestured to the ground around them, the forest. “Doesn't suit an angel. I've got a better idea, if you are so inclined?”

She grasped at his coat, pulling it tighter around her shoulders. Through her chattering teeth, she found she couldn't speak, but she knew that in that moment, she would follow him wherever he went. She nodded. 

“And for this gift that i will receive, what would you ask of me? What is it you’d like from ole Crowley?” His voice was musical, like a wind chime, and she found herself hanging on every word. 

“Hurt him. Like he hurt me. I want his heart to hurt so badly that he can't stand it… Make him feel the way I feel.”

Crowley chuckled, pulling one hand from his pocket and holding it out to her, helping her to her feet. “Revenge. I like it. As you wish, my angel”

She stood shakily, her tiny frame swimming in his too-large coat. He allowed his eyes to fall across her face, taking in every line and angle, the carefully arched eyebrows, to the dark, winged liner framing impossibly blue eyes. She was even more beautiful up close. “Are you sure that's what you want?” He asked her.

“I am.” She nodded, never taking her eyes away from his. 

“As you wish, m’lady. And as always, the deal is sealed with a kiss.” His hands fell around her waist, pulling her close to him, until her heaving bosom lay flat against his suit jacket. Even in her heels, he had to lean down to reach her mouth, but when he did, she pushed back hungrily, tasting something like whiskey and fruit on his lips. 

Angelica stayed like that for a long moment, enjoying the taste of him. So much so that the feeling of cold fell away, dissolving around her, until all she knew was him, and the warmth of his flesh against hers. 

Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away, and when he did, she heard something new around her, like the crackling of a nearby fire. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked, struggling against the new light. 

The forest around her had fallen away, replaced by tall wooden walls with shuttered windows. To her right, a fire burned brightly in a marble fireplace, flanked by statues of dragons, the mantle displaying pieces of artwork that looked priceless and ancient. 

Behind her, a canopy bed lay flush against one wall, its curtains sheer and blood red, the bedspread strewn with black and grey pillows, and a silver fur thrown over the headboard. 

The sights and smells surrounding her were wonderous and new, and she gaped at them like a baby bird awaiting a meal. 

Crowley stood beside her patiently, watching as she took in the room he had transported them to. The bedroom in one of many houses he called his. “I thought you'd be more comfortable, somewhere warmer…”

At the sound of his voice, she jumped as if smacked, and whirled around to face him, her eyes blown wide and owlish. 

“I-its gorgeous. What is this place?” She was in awe, and it showed in the breathlessness of her voice. 

He snorted a laugh, “This would be...uh” He reached up to tug his coat from her shoulders, exposing her pillowy flesh. “My bedroom.”

Her mouth formed a silent ‘o’ of surprise, her eyes fluttering behind a veil of thick, dark lashes. “Oh. Wow.”

“Forgive the mess, love.” He crossed the room in three quick strides, tossing the coat he had pulled from her shoulders across the back of a plush, overstuffed armchair near the fire. “I haven't had company in awhile”

He motioned towards the chair, offering it to her. “Sit, please. It's warmer. Promise.” She did as she was told, sauntering across the room towards him, her eyes on the floor. Now was the time, she supposed. She would give herself to him. Her end of the deal. She had always assumed her first time would be a bit less...staged. 

“I-” Her voice caught, hitching in her lungs. “I’m ready.” She pressed herself against him, grabbing his hand and pulling it down towards her skirt, pressing his palm through the fabric and into her womanhood. “Y-you can-”

“No.” He yanked his hand away unceremoniously, stepping away. “There will be plenty of time for that later. Besides….this seems rather rushed, don't you think?” 

She nodded, her cheeks burning a shade of crimson that could have lit up a dark room, “Im sorry. I thought-”

He held up a hand, effectively silencing her, “No. I insist. Sit. There is a time and place. And while this may be the place, now is not the time. Make yourself at home.”

He made his way towards the door, straightening his tie as he walked. She watched him go, feeling sad at the thought of being alone, “You're leaving?”

As he rounded the corner, he flashed her a knowing smile, “Don't worry. I'll be back. Shouldn't take but a moment.”

She watched him go, watching as the heavy wooden door slid into place behind him. When she was sure he was gone, she sighed. She sure had a talent for getting herself into situations, it seemed. Reaching down, she pulled off her pumps, sitting them off to the side. Her feet hurt, her toes numb from the cold, and her ankles weak from stumbling around in the snow. The worst part? All of it had been for naught. The man she had been prepared to sell her soul for, to rot in Hell for all of eternity for...had never really cared for her at all. 

It had all been...for what? Why had he played her in such a way? Toyed with her emotions and locked her in a glass case of emotion, but why? For the sure thrill of it? Simply to say he could?

She shook her head, leaning back in the chair until her shoulders lay flush against the velveteen fabric behind her. She just hoped that whatever this demon, Crowley, Had planned for him...he would suffer as she had. 

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, steaming liquid that penetrated her lids and begged to fall. She blinked it away, but the tears came anyway, racing down her cheeks. The door slid open once more, and she angrily swiped at the wetness on her cheeks, pushing it away. 

He strode in the room, shutting the door heavily behind him as he approached her, two crystal tumblers in his hands, filled nearly completely with a deep, amber liquid. He came to stand before her, his smile kind, yet knowing all at the same time.

She yanked off her gloves, tossing them to the floor beside her chair. She took the glass offered to her gently, careful not to spill. The demon watched her as she did so, studying her eyes. 

“Everything alright, love?” He asked, watching as she adjusted in her seat. 

“I just…” she stopped, shaking her head. “No...it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

She turned to look up at him for the first time, her gaze piercing. “Thank you...for this” She nodded to her glass. “For everything”

He nodded, flashed her a wink, and moved to sit beside her in a matching armchair to her right. 

“When I said I would've done anything….I meant it” Her voice was low, and sounded impossibly small in the cavernous reaches of the room around her. 

Laughing quietly, Crowley took a sip from his tumbler and sat back, watching her. “I know love, trust me, and there will be plenty of time for that when the opportunity presents itself. Until then...care to play a game?”

“A game?” She asked, taken aback. “What is this….grade school?!”

He snorted, taking another long drink from his glass, regarding her with gleaming eyes, “I’d hardly think not considering I’m nearly 500 years old. Think of it as an exercise in getting to know one another. Nothing more. You can ask me a question, and I can ask you a question, every answer has to be completely honest, and there are no repeats. I’ll even let you ask the first question.”

She brought the glass to her nose, sniffing it gingerly, her nose wrinkled at the scent, and she glanced over at him, “Is there...alcohol in thi-”

Her question was cut short when he released a howl of laughter, “Well, look at you! You’ve never had a drink in your life, have you? That’s bourbon, love. Take a swig, you may fancy it.”

Delicately, she brought the glass to her lips, taking the tiniest sip. She jerked her head back as the liquid touched her tongue, the small sip she had managed to take burning her throat. She coughed, sputtering. 

Crowley’s brows shot up when she started to cough, choking at the taste of the drink. “You also may...not fancy it.” He chuckled to himself, this was gonna be a fun night. “Either way. My turn!”

She gaped at him, mouth open as if to protest, but she thought better of it, and shut her jaw with a snap. Technically, she HAD asked a question. 

He chuckled, stole another drink, “Why is it, you look at me like I’m a wolf and you’re a rabbit caught in a trap? If anything, I should be the one afraid. I mean, with my delicate sensibilities and all.” He flashed her a wink, before turning to look towards the fire. 

“I...i am not” She swirled the liquid in her glass, brought it to her mouth (maybe a little too fast, as her teeth clinked against the rim) and downed another swallow. She grimaced at the taste. “I am not afraid of you!” She whimpered when she had finally caught her breath.   
“That's good.” He muttered, still staring into the tongue of flame that shot up in the fireplace. “I've found that fear makes the process...a whole lot trickier. I-” He took another gulp, possibly to hide his grin, “Am a gentleman, of course, and would never do anything without the consent of the other party, but i've heard stories…” 

“W-well..” She took another drink, this one a little fuller, a little more daring, with a little less cringing afterwards. “Thanks for...uh...not…..uhmm….” her voice grew quieter and quieter until it faded out altogether. For not...what? Raping me? She cursed herself internally. 

‘I should probably just shut the fuck up….’ She thought, mentally kicking herself.

“Breathe…” His voice was low, commanding. “You're shaking like a goddamn leaf. I’m not going to eat you, you don't have to be so nervous.”

She shook her head, leaning forward, “Im just...nervous for other reasons. That arent...that. So...I’m...not afraid of you”

He shook his head, his laughter a quiet growl in his throat, “You keep saying that, love, but i don't quite think you've managed to convince yourself. I would never force you to do anything with me that you did not want to do. You are here of your own free will, deal or not. I will never take away someone's ability to say no. You have my word as far as that is concerned. ”

She puffed a release of nervous laughter. She stopped after a moment, her brows stern, knit together in confusion. Toeing at invisible specs on the ground, she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly shivering and she wasn't sure it was from the cold, though she could hear the wind howling like wolves outside the door. 

“Can I ask you another question….?”

 

Laughing quietly at the nervous tension that seemed to be singing through both of them like a tightly drawn bow, Crowley tilted his head towards her. 

“Of course you can, I believe it was your turn to do so at any rate.”

He took a longer pull from his drink this time, a sizeable dent in the contents of his glass.

Like a swimmer about to take a dive off the high board, Angelica sucked in a deep, wobbly breath, before she rambled ahead, her eyes tightly closed to save her nerves, and possibly her sanity. She held her free hand up to her face, palm pressed against her eyes to further drive home the point she was trying to make, also to make absolute. Double. Sure. that she wouldn't see him laugh at her. She was careful not to move her head too much as she spoke, afraid she would see him if she did.

“I've never actually...uh” She cleared her throat, “Done…sex...before so...I..uh...I-i don't….know how….and I don't know why you'd want to...do that...with someone who doesn't….know how to….do that...especially when you could easily go out and find someone who does.” She paused, breathing heavily. “Someone who does know how…”

Her shaking intensified, and even though her question wasn't exactly phrased as a question, she hoped he would get the point anyway. Her thigh muscles clenched, already trying to help her run away from the situation. Maybe jump off a bridge.

Crowley was halfway through another swallow of his drink when she started to voice her concerns. The king of hell choked at her words and the liquid spilled down his chin, his eyes widening and the glass pulled from his lips. Leaning forward to set the drink down on an oak end table that sat between them, the demon thought carefully about his words before wiping the bourbon from his mouth and composing himself. 

“That question…” He muttered, thinking quickly. “I must admit, is a hard one to answer. My reasons hold no specifics in your ability...rather, who you are as a person. Besides, sometimes showing some a glimpse of the unknown can be rather enjoyable…Especially with someone as gorgeous as yourself.” With that, he snatched up his glass and sat back, content that he had given her an answer she could accept. “My turn?”

Dropping her hand into her lap, she nodded. Something about him seemed to bore into her very soul. She felt a sick, sour feeling in the pit of her stomach, where her shame lay, no doubt. 

Grunting, she felt a wave of confidence (or rather, a need for courage) over take her, and she lifted her glass, watching as the contents sloshed behind the unmarred perfection of the crystal clutched between her trembling fingertips. 

Bringing it to her lips, she threw her head back, holding her breath. She knew from her taste earlier that it caused a burning sting, and something inside of her told her she needed that right now. She swallowed greedily, sucking the liquid from the glass as if it were ice water and she was on fire. 

Hungrily, she gulped it, until she felt the last drop trickle down her throat and she sucked nothing but air. Still watching the fire, she handed it back to him, practically throwing it into his chest. Finally, she released her breath, coughing and sputtering, feeling as if she had drank a glass full of kerosene. She caught her breath quickly, shaking her head against the sensation. 

Clearing her throat, she tossed a sideways glance at him, “it's your turn….by the way…” When she was sure her point hadn't hit home, she turned to face him, “For...questions…”

 

Crowley regarded her with widened eyes as she sucked down what was left in her glass. 

“Uhm… I mean… you’re welcome. I think.” Setting the tumbler down beside the chair, Crowley turned to watch the fire, moving his fingers occasionally to make the flames dance in swirling patterns instead of just leaping over and devouring the wood. 

Unsure of what to say now that he was almost positive his company was going to fall face first out of her chair, Crowley stole sidelong glances in her direction, ready to leap out of his chair at a moments notice and catch her before she could split her forehead open on the marble fireplace. . 

“Are you… How are you feeling?” He asked sometime later, a good twenty minutes at the very least and he’d spent the entire time trying to think of what to say. 

Her answer was a shrug of her shoulders, and she glanced over at him, flashing a quick, but genuine, smile. 

“Do you uh, have anymore questions for me?”

He was well and truly at a loss for words, turning back to stare at the fire as if it would provide some safe haven from how uneasy he felt.

She sat statuesque for a moment, staring into the dancing, grasping flames of the fire as she thought. The drink had gone to her head quickly, making her feel lighter than air and far more relaxed. “Yes…”

She turned towards him, watching him -really watching him- for the first time since they met. “Did you mean what you said, or were you just trying to shut me up?”

It was short and to the point, and she would be lying if she had tried to say the alcohol had no influence in that. 

“I say a lot of things, darling, you’ll have to refresh my memory” He took another gulp, now in a fruitless attempt to keep up with his guest. 

“You said i was gorgeous…” Her voice was small, waifish, almost unheard in the air between them. 

His upper lip curled up in a knowing grin like a cheshire cat, “Yes. Of course I did. Look at you.” He glanced over at her, her raven black mane, her clear, porcelain skin, the way her curves were well defined even beneath a floor length evening gown. She was like his own little fallen angel. Without all the smiting nonsense…

Her next question came quickly. The alcohol didn't seem to be dulling her senses at all, or at least it seemed that way to Crowley. At least outwardly. “What does that mean? Are you just saying that to get me on my back?”

“First of all, don't be so dense as to assume that if i were to have sex with you, you’d be doing anything as boring as laying on your back, love. Im saying it because i mean it. As I said before, I am a man of my word. Secondly, I do believe it was my turn to ask a question. “

She shrank back, closing her mouth with a snap, forcing herself to stay quiet. It was his turn. She had spoken out of line. 

“Why does it matter?” He asked, glancing sidelong at her, “What I think of you?”

She felt something in his voice...dare she say it was something raw, like an open wound that he needed to mend? Was he unsure? Someone like him? A demon? She shrugged, looking towards the fire once more, “I’m not sure…” She muttered, searching for the answer within the flames, “I just...didn't want my first time to be with someone that was doing it because they had to...and no one has ever called me that before.”

He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, “Gorgeous?”

She nodded, still not looking over. 

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, “Then everyone you know must be a bloody moron.”

His words brought a smile to her face, her bubblegum lips turning up at the sides just barely. She gulped down a deep breath, as if summoning courage. Leaning forward, she caught his eyes and held them, her gaze intense and daring, “‘if I was going to have sex with you’” She quoted him, shrugging “so you don’t want to anymore?”

He took another gulp, his drink finally nearly gone, but his eyes never left hers as he did so. “Of course i want to. But...again...as i said before, consent is important, and if you were to say no, i would be happy to oblige. So, for that purpose...i say ‘if” He threw back his glass, draining the remainder of the liquid and sliding his glass along the table until it clinked into hers, standing empty against the oak. “My turn. So do you?”

She cocked her head, curious, “Do i?”

“Do you consent?” His voice was low, heated, and to the point. 

“Yes. My turn” She spoke in quick bursts, as if scared by her answer. She leaned forward, the firelight bounding off of her silky tendrils and making them appear to be glowing crimson. “ is it gonna hurt?” She spat the words like venom, almost as if pushing a bad taste from her mouth. 

He eyed her knowingly, his grin wolfish and sinister. “It might. My turn.”

She nodded, and leaned back in her chair, throwing her legs over the arm, her gown pushed up, exposing her bare legs up to the knee. 

“Do you want it to hurt?” His voice was like a rumble of thunder, and she felt it reverberating in her chest. 

She looked away again, into the fire. It was her safe haven, the place where she could escape his trapping eyes. “Maybe.. I don't know…”

She was quiet for a long time, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke over him, “Are you gonna hurt me on purpose?”

“Not unless you ask me to…and unless you do, any discomfort you may feel will be strictly involuntary. Promise.” He held a power behind his words, and she believed him. 

She was silent for a long moment, before she yanked her legs down from the arm of the chair, spinning in her seat until her feet hit the floor, albeit a little wobblier than she meant for them to. She pushed herself to standing, managing to do so in one fluid movement with little to no swaying. She stood in front of the fire, blocking his view. She wanted his attention on her, and nothing else. 

“What if I told you I wanted you to do it now?”

 

Faced suddenly with the view of his...interest directly in his line of sight, Crowley glanced up like a cat languidly waking from a nap. “Now, don't get your knickers in a twist, love. As i said, no rush. Besides…” He reached forward, fingers as soft as silk but strong as iron as he looped them around one wrist and yanked her down, into his lap. Her legs parted, straddling his waist, though her skirt was bunched between her legs, hiding anything from his view. “Don't go thinking you're in charge, little girl.” 

“I-I….” it was as if her brain were a record stuck on repeat. She found it difficult, through the fog in her mind, to concentrate, to form words together into something that resembled a sentence. “You forgot to….you have to….uh…” She bit her lower lip, but her eyes never left his, “It's your turn to ask a question…..”

Smirking like the cat who’d stolen the canary, Crowley leaned back in his chair, enjoying the view, of both the angel in his lap and the fire behind her. “Ah yes. Of course. A question…” He popped his hips, just once, bucking her into the air enough to make her squeak, a tiny sound like a mouse in her throat, “Why are you shaking so much?”

“Because im scared..” She admitted, chewing on her lower lip, looking down, at the folds of her dress...anywhere but into his eyes

A voice, from above her, “I thought you said you weren't afraid of me.”

“Not of you. Of...of…” She couldn't find the words to say, so she shrugged instead. 

“Oh, that?!” He threw his head back in a laugh, “well...i’d be lying if i said you had nothing to be afraid of, sweetness. After all. I sold my soul for a reason.”

When she looked up, her face shadowed his confusion, he flashed her a wink. “Your turn, Angel”

“Wait. Why did you sell your soul?”

“That's a long story. One that you'll find out about soon, i promise. I’d rather show than tell. “

 

~*~  
I sold my soul to a three-piece  
And he told me I was holy  
He's got me down on both knees  
But it's the devil that's trying to...  
~*~

He flashed her a wink, “Your turn”

“...what else is there to do besides lay on your back?….you said...uhm…..i don't remember. But you said...that I wouldn't be….doing that...”

 

“There’s a whole lot more and I…” A hand slid up her thigh, still covered by the thick, heavy fabric of her dress. “Cannot wait to show you…” He purred his reply against her ear, a hand coming up to settle on the front of her throat lightly, tipping her jaw up to look down into her eyes. “My turn”

She nodded, suddenly hyper aware of how stiflingly hot it was, sitting here by the fire. Or maybe it was the blaze burning inside of her, white hot and coiled in her belly, threatening to engulf her completely. 

“How much have you done?” He asked, his lips mere inches away from hers. 

“Just kissed. Just once.”

His eyebrows shot up, far enough that they were in danger of getting lost in his hairline, “Just once?”

She nodded, her lips turning up in a smile. A sudden surge of energy flowed through her, and she leaned forward, her tendons taut as steel cables beneath her flesh. Her eyes drove into his, watching him as she snaked her arms up and looped them around his neck, her chest pressed once more against his. “My turn…” Her voice was high, joyous and sing-song. “Crowley…” She purred his name as if tasting it on her tongue. 

“Yes…?” He grunted, nearly unable to control the desires running rampant in his mind. 

“What's that?” She asked, her voice low and sickeningly sweet to the point where Crowley could nearly taste the sugar in the air between them. 

“What's….what?” He asked, genuinely unaware. 

She leaned forward until her chin rested on his shoulder and her lips fell against his earlobe. “What's that poking me in the thigh?”

“Well, I can tell you one thing.” Reaching up, he unwound one of her arms from around his neck and grabbed her hand, pulling it down and placing it, gently yet firmly, across the area in question. “What That? “ He felt his need jump when her mouth flew open in surprise and her cheeks flushed red, “Well, I can tell you one thing, darling. It's not an angel blade”

Her lower lip pushed out in a heartbreaking pout and she whimpered, completely stolen of anything to say. She could do little more than look down at her hand, almost disbelieving, as if it belonged to someone else. “Is that uh…” Her tongue came out, a sliver of her pink tongue lashing across her lips, wetting them, “Thats your…”

“Dick. Yeah. That would be what that is. “

“Oh….” Her voice was small, little more than a whoosh of air. Testing her boundaries, she closed her hand around the mound in the fabric, feeling it shift and pulse beneath her fingertips. He grunted in response, shifting his hips towards her. 

She found the courage and looked up at him, and his eyes were a smouldering wildfire, lust ready and apparent behind the soil rich hues. Like a proper predator, his lip curled into a snarl, and she felt, more than heard, the grumble in his throat. 

His fingers grazed her jaw, and he tipped her head up, lips dancing over hers again and the heat behind the connection could have started a completely different kind of fire. Threading his fingers through her hair, he pressed into her, taking in the scent of her, the feeling of her mouth against his, until his lungs screamed for air and he was forced to pull away from her. 

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she glanced away, towards the fire. What once seemed like the best Idea was now giving her second thoughts. Sitting in the chair with him, trying to force him to give in was a fun game, but the thing that pressed against her palm was thick, long and hard and it scared her. 

She looked back to him, her eyes watching his lips as they touched hers. “What if it hurts too much?” She asked, her voice an unsure whisper, spoken against his mouth. 

The thought of throwing her onto his bed and tearing into her until she was a whimpering whore tugged constantly at the back of his mind, but Crowley was nothing if not patient. At least when it came to matters such as this. “Then i’ll kiss it and make it all better” His words were carefully planned out, lips and tongue wrapping around every syllable until she was absolutely sure that she knew what he meant. 

And she did. She understood with a deep, inner intensity that radiated through her core and caused a stirring between her legs that she had never felt before. She thrust forward, catching his lips with her own, and devouring his mouth. 

That was it. She was sure now. She wanted this. 

Her lips never left his, parting slightly, taking in the taste of him, but her hands twisted behind her back, reaching for the zipper of her dress. She fumbled, grunted, growled in her frustration. No matter how hard she tried, she found herself unable to reach the clasp. 

~*~  
Hold me down, hold me down  
Sneaking out the back door, make no sound  
Knock me out, knock me out  
Saying that I want more, this is what I live for  
~*~

Crowley gripped her thighs, pulling her to his waist until his stiffened member ground painfully against her. He lifted her easily, and stood from the chair, grasping her body as close to him as he could possible manage. He yearned for the feeling of another warm body against his own. 

She practically threw herself into him, climbing his body, one leg thrown over his hip, pulling him closer to her. Her arms returned to his shoulders, pulling herself up, thoroughly and effectively cementing her to him. 

He didn't take his eyes off of her, he walked with her wrapped around his waist like a living fanny pack, her dress dropped down her backside like a modest veil...but not for long. The dress was pretty, sure...but Crowley was sure it would look even better on his bedroom floor.

“Last chance to back out…” He muttered, and he had come upon his bed, his knees striking the frame painfully, though he didn't so much as cringe. His mind was far, far away. With A flourish, he tossed her down onto the bed, her skirt coming up and flaring behind her like a pair of heavenly wings. 

His angel.

“I don't know...I think im pretty sure…” She purred, her voice like velvet dripping honey. 

That was good enough for Crowley. Kneeling on the bed between her legs, He grabbed her wrists, pulled her up. Her beautiful, pouting lips were almost level with his aching manhood. He wanted nothing more than to pull it out and choke her with it...but..first, he had a better idea. 

Reaching over her shoulders, he found what she had been so frustratingly searching for, the zipper of her dress. Expertly, he tugged it down, exposing a line of tender flesh beneath the fabric, and his cock jumped at the sight. He would wreck her…

FInally, the zipper met its end, and she pulled away, leaning back to yank the straps from her shoulders, exposing a white lace bra beneath. She pushed herself up, tucking her legs beneath her, and allowed the dress to fall down her legs until it pooled around her legs, like a puddle of milk below a newborn calf. 

Crowley couldn't help but notice the futility of it all , holding himself back. 

He was a demon, with an angel in his bedroom. In his bed. His angel dressed in white. An angel spread out and willing for him. 

He chuckled, one hand coming up to press against her shoulder, driving her back until she fell flat on her back. “I just realised something, Angel…”

He yanked the dress out from under her, shoved it down to the floor, and stepped over it, moving over her on the bed. 

“What's that?” She asked, and her voice was stripped of all traces of fear. 

“You don't match anything in my bedroom.” He looked around at the oxblood red and black and grey pillows, the sheer curtains. “We’ll have to fix that…” 

~*~  
Selfish, taking what I want and call it mine  
I'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine  
They rush me, telling me I'm running out of time  
They shush me (sssh), walking me across a fragile line  
~*~

 

His dark, fathomless eyes rove patterns over her body, taking in every line and curve. The way her chest heaved with every breath. 

His eyes stopped on the ruby lying against her pale flesh, nestled above her heart. His fingers came up, lovingly caressing it with thick, calloused fingers. A treasure from her lover. Crowley snarled at the thought. She belonged to him now…

Hooking his fingers around the delicate chain adorning her neck, he gave a quick jerk and it gave way easily, pooling in his palm. “ You won't be needing this anymore. “

Angelica gasped as it fell away, but stayed silent, intoxicated by the scent of him.

Loosening his tie, he dropped it to the floor beside the bed, watching her, the way her eyes glittered, her lips parted just slightly. She was perfection. Unmarred and perfectly pure. 

That would be remedied soon enough. 

He leaned down to her, the buttons of his shirt finally opened, pushed aside, he pressed his flesh against hers. His hand slide up the smooth, tender flesh of her throat, feeling the beat of her heart, rivers of blood thrumming just beneath the surface. His free hand worked to free his belt buckle, yanking and tugging until it fell open. 

He was more than slightly surprised to feel his fingers swatted away, Angelica’s lithe, skeletal digits moving down the front of his slacks, grabbing his zipper, yanking it down. 

Her hand disappeared inside. Moving past layers of fabric until she managed to grasp the prize she was seeking. Her fingers wrapped tightly around him, and Crowley watched with smug contentedness when realization bloomed like a flower across her consciousness. 

“Holy...Fucking.” She glanced down towards her hand, though it was still hidden in the confines of his boxers, and then back up and his deep, ravenous gaze. “Oh my god…” Her voice was breathless. 

He chuckled, pressing his palm against her fist, rutting into her hand. “Well...not quite. But i can be your God, baby girl”

He grabbed her hand and pulled it free, his thumb flipping open the button of his pants, and yanking them down. He didn't have time to take them all the way off, not now. Now all that mattered is that his throbbing rod could be free of its silken prison.   
It sprang free, and he hissed as the warm air around them touched his sensitive flesh. He had been way too hard for way too long. Now it throbbed, plushing thunderously, aching for her. Two fingers grappled for the strap of her panties, tugging roughly. Too roughly. The lace tore away easily, exposing her to him. 

Already too far gone, he grabbed the other strap and did the same, sliding the ruined lace from her frame and tossing it carelessly over one shoulder. 

“What’re you-?!” She sucked in a breath when the only covering she had left was ripped away, and she was exposed, utterly and completely. 

“What are you doing?” She finally choked out the sentence she had meant to speak, her hands twisting and yanking on the sheets below her, clutching fistfuls in her quivering fingers. 

“I'm going to make you scream.” 

It was the only answer she got before his hands were on her, spreading her bare folds, touching her, teasing her. Searching, until finally he found that one...spot. 

He knew easily when he had found it. The way her knees slammed shut, her thighs crushing his hand, her back arching, bowing beneath her on the bed, her head tossed back, tendon and sinew standing out, corded beneath her flesh. 

“Now, now…” He teased, his free hand coming up to push her legs apart roughly. “You don't get to be in control.”

He’d barely touched her and already his palm was dripping, her need running in thick, ropey rivers down his wrist, and falling in droplets to the bed below. 

Her hands twisting at the bedspread until her lungs heaved, one leg moving to prop her foot against his shoulder while the other lay draped over the arm that held her legs apart. She was drowning, a tsunami of senses flooding her consciousness... and she never knew drowning could feel so good. 

She arched her back, bending at a nearly impossible angle, Her hips rolling, grinding her wetness against him as he circled her clit, teasing and tormenting her.. 

Her voice echoed around the room around them, bouncing off the walls to come back and slap her in the face. She knew it was bad, it was a sin, it would send her mortal soul to a place where she would burn in agony forever...but it felt so good and she wanted it so bad...and she would gladly spend eternity in Hell as long as Crowley was there. 

Her hand came up, dragging across her own throat, feeling it bob and heave as she struggled to suck in breath. Her fingers found their way to her lips, feeling the swollen scarlet pillows parted as if in a scream. Though she couldn't scream. Not then, her breath was choked in her windpipe, causing her lungs to burn and call for release. Finally, a strangled noise escaped her, and she felt fire in her veins, pulsing through her and tightening all of her muscles like spun steel beneath her goosebumped flesh. 

“Puh-please. God….fuck….” She whimpered. Her eyes flew open, traveling down, meeting his gaze. Something in those eyes grabbed onto her, pulled at her soul, striking through her like lightning, and she screamed his name. It reverberated around the room, ringing throughout the house, and she was sure if someone had dared to be out at this hour, in this weather, strolling past the house, they would have heard her. 

With a whine in the back of her throat, she forced her eyes away. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't watch him now. Those eyes staring up at her so lewdly while his fingers explored that hot and aching part of her. Her hands fell to her hips, coming down to snake down her flesh until her fingers met his wrist. She tangled her hands around his forearm, almost holding him in place, but nearly yanking him back. 

“No...Mmmph...no. Stop. Something’s gonna….oh my god….”

Growling at the sight of her, twitching and moaning beneath him, Crowley grinned devilishly, “Come on, baby girl. Let’s hear you scream.”

She shook her head, hair tousled, inky black against the crimson comforter. “No. I dont..I dont want-” Her free hand came up to press against his chest, forcing him away. Or trying to. She failed, and the hand holding her thigh moved instead to grasp her wrist, pin it down to the mattress below. 

“Please…” She begged, her throat raw and sore. 

“Please what? You're gonna cum for me, and it won't be the first time. I'm going to fuck you until youre screaming and crying and twitching on the ground, until my name is the only one you know. The only one you remember. I will be the only one you pray to.”

~*~  
I sold my soul to a three-piece  
And he told me I was holy  
He's got me down on both knees  
But it's the devil that's tryna  
~*~

She was pushing now, grinding against his hand, pushing and pulling, a carefully choreographed dance until she felt something like lava pooling at the base of her spine. Her eyes were feral, primal in there lust. Every nerve ending was on fire, burning just beneath the surface. All it took was one final stroke, and he shoved her over the edge, her orgasm rocking her to her very core and ripping a scream from her throat that echoed in the halls outside the room. 

When she finally stopped twitching, he pulled his hand from between her legs, his mouth pressing a small kiss against the base of her throat. “Thats a good girl…” He whispered. 

He glanced down at his hand, moving it up to his mouth. He stuck one dripping digit into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. The innocence of her. 

Her thighs vibrating from the cascade of her orgasm, she forced her legs closed, looking away. She couldn't look at him. Watching him taste her essence on his fingers was doing something to her, something sinful. It was causing impure thoughts. 

“Well…” He muttered, his wet hand coming down to stroke across the shaft of his pulsing member, “Now that we’re thoroughly lubed and ready”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Her voice was a whisper, eyes watching the way his face darkened like a brewing storm.

“Do you want me to hurt you?” 

There was silence until she swallowed, her mouth sticky as she nodded -- at least as best as she could. “Yes. Give me a reason to pray.” 

She was his perfect little slut, whore, filthy and wanton, needing of punishment, a firm hand around her throat and he was all too prepared to give it to her. 

“I’m not someone you’d pray to, but you can get on your knees and try.” A sharp tug on her wrist pulled a soft cry from her throat and he turned her easily, flipping her over, placing her on all fours before him. 

 

She drank up his power, the sheer, forceful need of him. He had taken control of her in a matter of seconds, bending her will, her body and her mind before him. She bowed to him, and she did so willingly. Lustfully. 

She felt something thickened and curved press against her entrance and she yelped, grasping at the sheets, and pulled herself away. It was hot and heavy and the weight of it scared her. “W-wait! I changed my mind. Don’t hurt me. Be gentle. Please.”

A hand came down, slapping across her backside, silencing her with a low whimper. His grin was devilish, animalistic and manic. “Nice try, little angel.”

She shook her head, her eyes flicking over one shoulder, studying him, “but…but...”

“No, that comes later…”

“Wait...what?”

A grin that could deceive the Devil himself painted itself across Crowley's face. “Nothing, love. Come here.”

His hands were on her hips now as he fell between her parted thighs, his cock grinding almost painfully against sensitive flesh, the blunt head slick between her folds as it stroked over her clit, teasing until she rocked her hips, causing a groan to fall from his throat. 

“I want it. All of it….please?” Her voice was as smooth as her skin and as deadly as her eyes. It would drag him down and pull him beneath its blue depths, drowning him inside of her. The bindings inside of her were breaking, and something was being unleashed that she couldn't contain. Something dark, and sinful, roaring to life like a dragon inside of her chest. 

“As you wish, my pet” He pushed against her, the slick, rounded head of his throbbing cock pushing against her, parting her before him. He pushed forward, achingly slow, ignoring all the the screaming in his head that told him to take her, claim her and own her completely until she was sopping and drooling beneath him. 

She could feel something inside of her stretching and pulling, something threatening to tear open and spill blood down her thighs. A sharp, throbbing pain like a paper cut, but deep inside. In an area previously unexplored. It was a growing, intense pressure, and Angelica wrinkled her nose in a grimace. She tensed, bucked away, only to be quickly roped back in, his hands on her hips guiding her back, pushing into her until finally, the soft, generous curve of her backside lay flush against his hips. 

Eyes glazed with his lust, Crowley looked down at his angel, at the sweeping arch of her spine, the way the twin globes of her ass pressed against him, the slick, wet feeling of being inside of her. 

“See? Now that wasn't so bad, was it?” He asked, his voice soft and cooing. 

She nodded, pushing back against him, testing the treacherous waters. “Yeah. It feels...full. It's-so big”

“Yes it is” His voice was a purring in her ear, “and its all for you, princess”

He slid out carefully, slowly, feeling the way the walls surrounding him gripped around the shaft, holding on, not wanting to let go. When he thrust back into her, he was not gentle. 

When flesh meets flesh, it screams, and the sound of his hips slamming into her ass mingled with the sound of her moan, and created a symphony like wolves on an arctic midnight. Every movement was like a white hot flare inside of her, burning bright with the intensity of a thousand suns. She took it willingly, hungrily, and soon, she was pushing back against him with every thrust. 

She could feel every inch of him, filling and stuffing her full and one simple, yet overwhelming thought drilled itself into her brain. She never wanted it to stop. 

She wants his cock deep inside her, probing, throbbing, filling. Wants it so bad that she feels her mind spinning from delirium. 

 

"Don't..God, fuck. Don't"  
He Leans forward, grabbing her throat, his fingers digging into rigid lines of muscle beneath his fingertips, "Don't WHAT?" His voice is ragged and broken and he sounds maniacal. Insane and dangerous.

"Don't stop" She whimpers, her voice breaking beneath her strain. Her entire body shudders from her need, "PLEASE"

 

"You want it?" A growl, and then "you like it, don't you?"

 

She could only manage a trembling whimper in response.

 

He pulled out, teasing her, and then slammed back in with enough force to knock the headboard back, pounding relentlessly against the wall with a loud bang. If anything, the noise seemed to make him more brutal. He rocked against her, ramming into her again and again, fearless and driving, until her moans morphed into primal grunts, tearing from her throat uninhibited.

He pounded into her with all of his force. Sure, he would bruise her, and he knew it...but at that moment he didn't care. 

WIthout warning, she jerked herself away, leaving him suddenly cold and wanting. “Where...what…” His voice came out a lot less than as demanding as he had hoped, and it scared him. He didn't want to be without her, not now, and if he could help it, not ever, and the sudden loss of contact was almost too much to take. 

At that moment, the only thought in his head was her.

She flipped over, lying still on her back, her legs thrust apart, an open invitation. 

 

Re-positioning, he leaned down to her, his chest against her, his lips resting against her jaw just below her ear. She could feel his shoulders heaving as his breath hitched in his lungs. He reached up, wrapping both hands around her neck.

“Angel?” He breathed into her ear.

“Yes?”

“You are mine.”

She didn't speak, but he could feel her nodding, and the way her arms snaked up and around his shoulders, dragging him down on top of her. 

Driving herself forward, she slammed her mouth against his, her tongue tracing the line of his upper lip. Tasting him. 

Crowley shifted his hips, rolling them in an arch until he found that spot within her. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her, and all that escaped was a choking gasp. Trembling fingers came up to scramble and scurry across his back, and had he managed to get his shirt off completely, he was sure she would have left welted lines of blood, and deep scratches.

 

His head dropped, concentrating, his eyes cloaked in shadow. He could feel it now, that familiar feeling like shooting lightning up his vertebrae. He pulled away from her, though he didn't break their contact. His grin spread even wider, and when his eyes met hers, she saw within him that he had come undone. 

He pushed, driving himself into her...and finally...she erupted. He rode out her orgasm, pushing into her, using all of his strength and willpower just to hold himself back. 

 

She was screaming, her head tossed back, muscles rigid and tensed, her goosebump flesh standing out in unmarred whiteness beneath his grasp. Every line of muscle beneath smooth skin, every vein standing out against feverish flesh. 

 

Harder, faster, pushing. Rough and unforgiving. She felt every inch of him, pulsing and swelling inside of her. He released her then, his hands dropping from her throat to the swell of her hips. He continued his thrusts, but slower, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes.

Her eyes, deep, sapphire pools, like a glacier in open ocean, her eyeliner smeared from her cries of agony and screams of passion, pulling him under, drown him in their depths, in their intensity…. And he suddenly felt like a skydiver in free fall. The orgasm began at the base of his spine, twisting and coiling like a bolt of lightning. Shooting up his back and slamming into his brain with enough force to turn his vision white. 

She was barely aware of his climax, set off when her walls clamped around him like the shutting of a chamber door, but she felt a flood of warmth inside of her. Filling, and overfilling her until it poured out of her and dripped to the bed below them. Hot, like an eruption of magma inside of her.

He groaned, his lips pulled up in a snarl as he was overcome in his bliss. He stayed for a long moment, breathing heavily. 

Catching his breath, he pulled away from her, and she suddenly hates the chill of the room. Completely and utterly, it has ended.

She shifted her hips, desperate to feel it again, to mold their bodies together in a forbidden sin that she had never known could make her feel this way. She didn't want it to be over…

“Crowley…?” She muttered, her voice small and unsure. Something within her heart was raw and burning. Stinging like an open wound. 

He had stood from the bed, replacing himself back in his pants, that he had yanked up and over his hips. “Yes, love?”

“I-I..” She searched for the words, pushing herself up on her elbows, wrapping herself around the fur blanket draped across the head of the bed, covering herself in its warmth. She was suddenly ashamed of her nakedness. Limbs contorting, she rolled herself in a ball, flipped towards the wall, hiding her tears. 

Why was she crying? She didn't know, but she did know that she was unable to stop them once they started. 

“Did I….do good?” She whimpered, when she finally found herself able to speak without a crack in her voice. She didn't want him to see her cry. Not now. 

She felt a hand fall across her hip, warm and soothing against her chilled flesh. “Perfect. I think i’ll keep you.”

She glanced back at him, over her shoulder, questioning, “Keep me?”

He nodded, stooping down momentarily to gather his tie off the floor. “I...am a man of my word. I said you were mine...and I meant it.” 

Without looking, he knotted the tie around his neck, tying it expertly, with perfect precision. 

“Now…” He strode over towards the chairs by the fire, the embers of light now little more than glowing marbles beneath smoking charcoal. “You get some rest. Please. I’ll be back.”

“You're leaving?!” The thought terrified her, and it took all of her willpower not to jump up and run to him, throw herself to the ground at his feet, beg him to stay. 

“Dont worry. I’m coming back. I have...errands to run.”

He wiggled his fingers at her in a parting gesture, and made his way to the bedroom door, disappearing through it without another word. 

~*~  
Hold me down, hold me down  
Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown  
Knock me out, knock me out  
Saying that I want more, this is what I live for  
~*~


End file.
